


Ariadne

by Petronia



Series: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure stories [7]
Category: JoJo no Kimyouna Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: F/M, Giorno would've deserved it, Post-Series, nearly ends in a stand battle, what incest I have no idea what you mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-17
Updated: 2006-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:10:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petronia/pseuds/Petronia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giorno and Jolyne go on a date. (In fact, if I remember the backstory of this correctly, Giorno sees Jolyne using her stand and stalks her until he can arrange for them to "meet" "accidentally," and then they go on a date, because Giorno is a creepy person.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ariadne

She was already waiting when he arrived, leaning against the fountain in the center of the square – framed by water – her hands resting against the fluted lip of the pool. The sun was still high, and the clear wintry light tinted her hair with bronze.

"You must know not to expect punctuality in this country," he said lightly, coming up to her side. At this she lifted her gaze to his, though he knew she had taken note of his approach.

"You're five minutes early," she said, "if that's what you mean."

"You see right through me." She pushed away from the fountain and walked off, toward the far end of the square. The long fitted windbreaker she wore fell unbuttoned to her ankles and flared in her wake. After a moment he followed, lengthening his stride until he caught up. "Where are we going?"

"Anywhere. Nowhere in particular." They looked at each other again. Red and gold stripes ran the length of her sleeves, made of stars. The pattern was striking and suited her. The butterfly-shaped pin was back in her hair. Perhaps she had never noticed its absence. He remembered the brush of its wings against his cupped palms, like a fluttering heart of crepe paper. Anxious to return to its resting place.

"I'd like to get us lost, actually," she said after a moment, "just to wander around the city in circles with no idea where we were. But I can't. I've never been lost in my life. Have you?"

"No," he said truthfully. He had a sudden vision of her pacing through a winding maze of streets with the certainty of Ariadne, red thread unspooling from her fingers. Impulsively he took her hand and lifted it to his lips. Her eyes widened, and she allowed him, but the wariness he had sensed in her since the beginning did not dissipate. For a moment he wondered if she had found him out.

"Let's pretend," he said.

***

 

They walked for hours, conversing. There was a restlessness in her, a seeming need for the reassurance of motion, and he wondered if she had been ill, or confined for some other reason. For all that there was nothing extraneous or repetitive about her gestures, which he liked. Her beauty was not cast from the same mold as that of other girls. She moved lithely, like a fighter, and when an idea caught at her a vividness came into her face that was almost painful to see. At times he caught her glancing at him, sideways, with the same wonder.

"Hey," she said, making him start; he had been staring again. "We have too much in common, don't you think?"

"I'm flattered." But he knew what she meant. Stand users called to each other, that much was a truism, but—

(His bodyguard had gone so far afield to exhibit _délicatesse_ the previous day that he had had to put a stop to it by asking him directly for his opinion. Mista had pondered the question during several red lights, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as if inputting data to a computer, though he was no typist.

"She's very _you,_ " he had said finally. "I mean, _like_ you.")

"Talking with you is like trading notes," she said. "It's bizarre. It's almost as if—" She didn't finish her sentence. After a moment she lifted her coffee cup to her lips. The restaurant floor was raised above street level, in a renovated space with floor-to-ceiling windows set in grey stone, and for a split second he felt them exposed under the pressure of invisible observers. She set her cup down but remained silent. He thought he saw challenge in her eyes, or sadness, but already she was gazing away, pulling back as if at an unwelcome reminder. At first he didn't understand.

Then he did: she hadn't found him out after all.

"Come," he said, "I have something to show you."

***

 

He led her down a quiet street, then turned into the mouth of an alleyway. When it curved again to the right she stopped walking, but he continued down the dead end for several metres before turning.

"It's true," he said, "you never get lost."

"What do you want?" she asked. She stood with her arms loose at her sides, and the wild light in her eyes nearly took his breath away. She was a fraction of a second away from manifesting her stand. He extended his own hand toward the wall, keeping his eyes on her face.

"Watch," he said, unnecessarily. Gold Experience flowed upward through his skin, unleashed, and broke against the side of the alley so quickly as to resemble a blur of light. There was a shiver of force—

Lilies fell at his feet: first one, then another, then half a dozen. White, dusty rose, gold barred with tiger-pelt orange. The alley filled with their scent to overflowing. He dropped to one knee to gather them. Then he stood, and extended the bouquet toward her.

She had checked her stand. It was not the thread, but humanoid in form, melding against her side in a protective stance. He had had an intuition, and put himself beyond his own striking range. She breathed, straightened; the stand doubled her form and disappeared.

"You're crazy," she said. "Completely."

"Perhaps," he said.

"You don't know a thing about me."

"I plan to find out." She stared at him, incredulous, and shook her head. After a moment she stepped closer and took the flowers from his hand.

"Don't look," she said, "but there's someone watching us from the roof of the grey house to the left."

He didn't look. "He's one of my people."

She exhaled explosively, then – to his surprise – smiled. "All right," she said. "All right, Giorno Giovanna. Once more, from the beginning."


End file.
